“In your hand?”
She pockets the spark from your sight. She’s hiding something. Again.
You back off. You adjust your cravat and smile. “Do you like your dress?”
She smiles demurely. The wind around her ruffles the diaphanous sleeves and tousles a lock of her fiery hair. “Yes.”
“I could make another for you.”
“If I reveal my secret?”
Hm. A swift learner, this one.
You shrug. “No, no payment necessary.”
She twirls a lock of hair around her finger. Drifts closer to the tree stump by your feet. “Truly?”
“I don’t have to do anything this time?”
“Not a thing. Consider it a random act of kindness.”
“Why can’t the acts of kindness be more consistent?”
You tut at her and walking two of your fingers across her silk-soft scalp, emphasizing the words. “Don’t. Push. Your. Luck.”